Deity Vacation
by EssentiallyRei
Summary: Join Rayda the human monk in the world of Rouentha as she pairs up with a half-elf ranger named Cadriel on an adventure. That is until Cadriel discovers that Rayda isn't a monk, and she's not even really human. Rayda is a actually a deity called Toral-oba on vacation in Cadriel's world. And Toral-oba is very interested in Cadriel, the loner and godless ranger. Original World & OCs
1. Prologue: The Start of an Adventure

**Prologue**

**The Start of an Adventure**

A human monk sits in an opening of a small grove on a stump where a single tree with a thick trunk had been chopped down a long time ago. The monk had been there for a long time, too, meditating in the same cross-legged sitting posture that she started in so long ago. The amount of time she had been there was actually the most unimportant thing to her as the frayed ends of a rug were—which actually did bother her…

So it was, that she _knew_ her enjoyable time in this world was soon to be at an end. And as if this creeping thought had finally been said out loud, a _pop_ was heard behind the monk and near her stump.

The _pop_ might have disturbed or surprised some, but the monk knew exactly what the pop originated from—or whom, more like. She had been expecting this visit any day.

"My Lady," an all too familiar voice expectedly rang out with eagerness. And still the monk chose not to move or address the intruder. She knew the middle-aged man, with closely shaven hair, except for his bushy goatee, brown eyes that revealed nothing of his character, but shaggy eyebrows that did, was in a low-stooped bow, waiting for her to give permission to speak.

She did _not_ give her permission, but after a minute of silence, he chose to speak anyway. His Lady always did this; she enjoyed testing the patience of her followers. And it was said that good rewards came to her followers who waited. Unfortunately, the man had never been patient, in his life, or now; not even when his Lady had collected him into her influence. Patience was just a game to his Lady. One that Master Andrenelli believed everyone had played long enough. "My Lady, Master Andrenelli sent me to retrieve you."

The monk didn't want to react, but the mention of Andrenelli's name sent a guilty chill down her back that turned into a long sigh. How long had she made Andrenelli wait? Surely it had been longer the last time she had left. "Is there something that only I can address?" she finally asked in an innocent manner, but still without turning to the man.

The man was confused, and he hesitated to answer. He took a step back, glanced around the grove to examine his Lady's chosen sanctuary, and frowned. "Why have you chosen to be away for so long? My Lady," he adds as an afterthought, continuing to look around for the reasoning of his Lady's chosen absence. There was nothing special about the grove. There were trees, there was grass, and there were weeds. It was a grove, a particularly ordinary one. "There are many affairs that call for your attention," he now settled his attention back on his Lady.

"All affairs that Andrenelli cannot handle himself?" she playfully snapped back, in a not so innocent manner.

Again, the man was confused. "What shall I tell Master Andrenelli?" he asked outright.

The monk twitched uncomfortably. It had been so long since she had moved, and now that she was, in body and mind, there was so much she wanted to get up and do. But first, "Tell him that it is not yet time for me to return. Whatever matters require my attention, I'm confident that Andrenelli can rid me of them."

The man still hesitated, and his frown deepened. Andrenelli would not be happy to hear that Lady Toral-oba was not returning. "May I inquire when the time of your return will be?"

Rayda leisurely stood up and stretched her long slender body. This was the first time she had moved in over a year. Her human body felt stiff and ached, but she forced it to move the way she needed it too; knowing it would all only hurt and ache even more later on. Her brown, sun-bleached hair had grown past her shoulders into unkempt tangles, and her long nails weren't looking so pristine either. _Scraggly_, she thought; that's how she must look to her follower, who was still standing and awaiting her answer.

And she was right. The man didn't like his Lady's appearance. She looked much too _dirty_ for how she should look, for what she really was, and he was somewhat embarrassed. Should he really be allowed to look upon his Lady when she did not look her best? Every other time he had been in his Lady's presence, she was the envy of beauty itself. To look upon her was like catching the moonbeams on a nocturnal flower—forbidden and precious. Yet, here she was, in a human body, with dirt under her nails, with sun-dried skin, with tattered clothing, and looking as thin as a book written by Master Andrenelli on the topic of swordplay. Gazing at his Lady's current state seemed more forbidding than her actual beauty.

After Rayda stretched, she turned to the man and found herself smiling. In her human body, she was taller than the man; taller and trimmer than his average height and hardy build. She had grown accustomed to this feature of this body, and planned on making herself taller in any future forms she took on. Being a tall female seemed to intimidate males, and it was a much different feeling than that of being smaller. She liked it.

Yet, there was one feature of this body she did not like. Even for a female body, she was not very womanly, being bonier than curvy. The only bulges she did have were the rock-hard muscles on her arms, legs, and abs. She had designed this body for that of a monk, agile but strong. But oh, how she missed the soft skin and hourglass figure of a woman that could turn the heads of most males in most humanoid species. She liked being attractive, and from time to time she had even played the role of a seductress.

From time to time, back in her own world, she had also put herself into the form of a male body. Not to seduce, but to manipulate; because in her _line of work_, there were always _characters_ that were hard to collect into her influence unless she had the help of a male. It all depended on the individual that she was trying to accrue.

The last time she took the form of a male was to gain the trust of a particularly sexist male orc. At first, she had sent Andrenelli to attend to the matter of gaining the orc into her influence, but he had returned in dismay, saying the orc had thought him _squishy_. But Rayda had understood the orc's perspective. Andrenelli was a wizard and preferred books, robes, and spells over swords, armor, and melee; unlike the orc who savored a sweaty and bloody fight.

The orc's name had been Mulgbash, and despite Rayda eventually gaining his trust, in her male body, and revealing to him who and what she really was, the orc ended up choosing a different path, and a different _power_. That, too, she understood. Rayda offered many rewards and benefits to her followers, but the orc wanted a little chaos in his life, and chaos was not something Rayda presented; perhaps tolerated on rare occasions, but never engaged in.

Putting a comforting hand on the bushy browed man's shoulder, Rayda said, "Soon, my child," and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead. Turning away, she inspected her surroundings that she had not laid eyes upon in a year.

The man was twice as embarrassed now as he felt the residual tingle of his Lady's lips between his brows. It was uncommon for his Lady to bestow kisses, and he did not believe he deserved the token for the sake of his own relaxation. He stooped into a low bow and reprieved himself. With another _pop_, he was gone, letting the cool breeze fill his empty space.

The breeze _was_ cool, and the feeling of wind on Rayda's bare skin felt good. A sensation she had not had for a year, because a year ago, when she had taken her spot at the center of the grove to meditate, she had put up a barrier to the grove and the rest of the world. The barrier was to hold for as long as she meditated, and it had ceased when she stood up from the stump, opening the grove up to the elements of the world. Her barrier, in essence, had frozen the grove in time and space, preventing the coming of critters and animals, wind or rain, and the changing seasons of the region.

The barrier had also prevented humanoid wanderers that could disturb Rayda's meditation from happening upon the grove. When a passerby would come near it, the mental idea of taking another route would quickly turn them around, or send them around rather than through. This power of illusion was one of the almost limitless benefits of being what she was.

Rayda had never had problems disappearing when she needed to. Mortals could be so easy to fool.

Rayda, however, knew that such a barrier, this display of her power, was potentially dangerous. She had to go about using any of her mysterious powers in a way that would only benefit herself, and only in her own presence. She was _not _in her world, and using her other world powers could influence those who were not hers to influence. There were always other _powers_, who _were_ kin to this world and held a large range of influence in their _world,_ that were watching. Thus far, she had succeeded in not provoking any of them, and drawing attention to herself. She was not a threat to their influence; therefore, she was allowed to remain as a visitor to their world.

And throughout her eleven years in the world of Rouentha she had done so well playing her game.

It was somewhat of a hobby of Rayda's, or as she's known in her world, Toral-oba. Whenever Toral-oba grew bored of her demanding role in her world, she would go on what she called: _vacation_. On these _vacations,_ Toral-oba would role-play; meaning she took on the role of something or someone else. It was a game of pretending, and she took the game quite seriously. She would go to many lengths to fit into her chosen role, in looks and character.

It was impossible for Toral-oba to play her game, or even go on "vacation", in her own world. Too many of her followers in her world would make the game less enjoyable, bugging her with menial tasks, as mortals always did.

So more often, Lady Toral-oba went to another world, and she would usually only visit a world once. Yet, her role as Rayda the monk was Toral-oba's second time in Rouentha. During her first visit she had played the role of a human tavern maid by the name of Milly, who would sing for the weary traveler if the coin was right. It had been a simple and easy role to play, but "Milly" had hardly ever left the tavern to see the outside world of Rouentha. Milly ended up staying only two months.

Toral-oba thought it harmless to visit Rouentha a second time. She had gained no influence whatsoever as Milly the tavern maid, making it safe to return for a second bout that would allow her to explore the world of Rouentha, not just listen to the epic and heroic tales that took place within; tales told by old, drunk, and retired adventurers. As much as Toral-oba had a soft spot for heroic tales, an exceptionally large soft spot that had inspired her to start "collecting" heroes into her influence, she preferred to witness the heroism for herself. She returned to Rouentha as Rayda the monk, with plans for adventure.

It was risky. She had never chosen such an in-depth role before.

As Rayda, she had now been in Rouentha for eleven years, counting the year she just spent meditating. The other ten were spent perfecting her role as a monk—uneventful but necessary to play her pretending game.

Upon her revisit, "Rayda" had travelled to a monastery far into the Ghiga Mountains that she had heard about in her days as Milly the tavern maid. She spent ten years at the monastery learning from the monk masters. But she had mainly gone so that she may learn about Rouentha's history, its deities, and its races; because after a year the monk master's realized that Rayda was an adept fighter, prodigy even. They believed all she needed to go along with her expert skill was the discipline of a true monk. Or, in follow with Rayda's secret pretending game, the mannerisms and behavior of a monk. Meditation was a part of that behavior.

Taking a last glance at the stump that had been her home for about a year, Rayda now believed she had taken the meditation that the masters told her would be her final test of discipline, a bit too far. One year was long; perhaps too long.

And eleven years was long, too. Her followers were already weary of their Lady Toral-oba's absence.

But she wouldn't go back. Not yet. The adventure had only begun.


	2. Chapter 1: War and Woodland

**Chapter 1**

**War and Woodland**

The hunter nocked an arrow to his bow, and counted his slow steps towards his prey. Only six yards from him was a winter-coated rabbit that believed itself blended with its surroundings as it nibbled on a tree seedling peeking its way up from the melting snow. It was intriguing to the hunter how only several days ago, this forest was covered with a thick blanket of snow. But now, warmer breezes were steadily bringing the forest to life. Spring was a breath away; the rabbit was too motivated by the first buds of vegetation to be concerned with predators like the hungry hunter.

Unknown to the rabbit, _it_ would be the hunter's first spring meal. But with the end of winter, also came the ending of the hunter's stay in the forest. His arrangement with the family of druids that claimed these woods as their domain had been only for the duration of winter. As long as the hunter took purely what was necessary to survive within and from the forest, the druids had left him alone and allowed him to take refuge in a small uninhabited cave not too far from where he was now. The hunter had been fortunate, if the bear that had been living in the cave before him had not passed away, the druids would not have allowed him to stay in the woods at all. And it would not have made sense to stay; he needed the shelter of the cave to protect him from the winter elements.

In return for his stay, the hunter had given the druids information from the nearest town of Cogsfurrow that was many miles away. The druids cared nothing for the village, but what they valued was the information of the ongoing war that could eventually spread as far the druids' woodland. The father of the druid family had been concerned that the involving war parties would see the woods as a vastness of resources to supply their futile conflict. He wanted to know if his family and the forest were in any danger.

When the hunter had first come to the woods, not knowing of the druid family, and only seeking a winter refuge, he was surprised to be confronted by a large, bright red-eyed white stag that stood almost ten feet tall, dominating anything and everything in the forest. Draped around the stag's antlers was a string of grass with pieces of bark dangling off, bearing black etched symbols. Whenever the stag turned, tilted its head or walked, the bark pieces would clack against the antlers.

As the hunter slowly raised his bow, a clacking noise interrupted the stalk towards his breakfast, freezing both the hunter and the rabbit into place. The albino stag from before, now walked into view.

Stopping next to the hunter, the stag bent its head down and towards the hunter, making sure it made eye contact with him before it moved its head with its penetrating red eyes onto the rabbit. After communicating a short telepathic message to the rabbit that told it to find some other area to forage, the rabbit twitched its nose and was gone, happily hopping away in the opposite direction of its revealed stalker. Gratitude was owed to the druid father, the protector of the forest. Today, the rabbit got to keep its life.

The stag tilted its head back towards the hunter, and the short telepathic message, "Follow," was communicated, before it galloped forward, already with a large lead. There being no other choice, the hunter put away his bow and took pursuit, trying to keep up with the imposing druid. Minutes later, the stag was already too far ahead and could not be seen, but the hunter knew what direction to keep going by following the druid's heavy hoof prints left in the wet and malleable forest floor.

The prints led through the partially snow covered landscape, before the ground suddenly changed to full-spring grass and the trees within the grassed area were just as awake, presenting lush leaves on every bough. As the hunter looked around, he realized he was in a small grove that appeared completely untouched by the winter season.

Standing at the center of the grove, patiently waiting for the hunter, was a dauntingly tall elf wearing a cloak made of layers of dried grass that attached to the wooden pauldrons on his shoulders. Underneath the cloak, the elf wore an intricately designed, crimson robe with gold and black accents. Protruding from the elf's head were two large antlers, draped with a grass string, ornamenting etched bark pieces. This was the father druid in his true form.

For any normal high elf, their sheer tallness and angular facial features would give away their lineage. Yet, the father druid's perfectly white skin, long white hair that was braided and hung over one of his pauldrons, and bright red eyes that followed the hunter as he entered the grove, betrayed his own lineage. The albino high elf had abandoned his prejudiced kin long ago, finding the simplicities of nature far more welcoming and accepting of his abnormality. He had found a home in these woods, and he planned on protecting it from any who would do harm.

The half-elf ranger standing before the father druid was _not_ a threat. The druid and his family had watched the half-elf throughout the winter, monitoring his persevering actions. The half-elf had stuck to the arrangement, only hunting when he needed to, and causing no destruction to the wildlife in the forest. His curious daughters had actually enjoyed watching the half-elf, finding the presence of the stranger somewhat refreshing to their sheltered lives. The druid family had no contact with the outside world, except the occasional traveler that saw the woodland as a place to hunt before continuing north on the roads; much like the half-elf who had stumbled upon the woodland nearly three months ago.

Negotiating with the half-elf ranger before allowing him to stay in the forest had been an easy task for the father druid. The half-elf was a drifter, who preferred the confinement of nature on his travels more than the walls of an inn, or the walls of a city. But he had been willing to backtrack a day's worth of journey to the nearest town of Cogsfurrow for information on the war. In the half-elf's mind, getting what the family of druids wanted was worth the protection and provisions that the woodland provided for the winter.

It was a bonus that the woods were friendly; that the druid family was gracious. The half-elf had spent nights in unfriendly forests before, and as much as he could handle himself in unfriendly territory, friendliness made the harshness of winter more bearable.

Yet, the entire winter, the half-elf worried for the druid family. The news he had brought back from Cogsfurrow had not been pleasant. The war was steadily approaching the nearby regions, and would eventually stretch as far as the port city of Dur'Darshka. And when it did, everything from there and in-between would be affected. Both warring parties would want control of the port city of Dur'Darshka, and the druid family's quaint woodland happened to be right along the way. The half-elf shared the father druid's understanding that the war parties would see the woodland as a conveniently placed resource ripe for the picking—for whichever warmonger got there first.

The half-elf had avoided getting dragged into the war hence far by travelling west faster than the war's influence. But it seemed the war was following him. He had hoped that the humans who resided in the west would remain neutral in the conflict, but it appeared he was wrong. The warring parties were dragging their western neighbors into it, and the peaceful people had no way of disagreeing when swords were being pointed at their faces. The war was becoming bigger and bigger with every passing day.

With the start of spring, the roads would soon be filled with marching armies going towards Dur'Darshka. The half-elf had plans to steer away from this by moving his travels south by the end of the day.

The father druid had plans of his own, and he needed a favor before he let the half-elf depart in any direction. It would be an unusual task, and much different from gathering information from the nearest town.

"Did the winter forest treat you well?" the druid father asked in Common, the only language the father druid knew the half-elf spoke. He decided to start with some small talk, because the half-elf appeared uneasy by the father druid's real form. But the father druid was used to this, or at least had been when he lived among his own.

Not wanting to offend for staring, the half-elf averted his eyes down, and crouched, touching the green grass at his own feet. He took the asked question as unnecessary politeness, and focused on what was clearly bothering the father druid. Glancing up at the trees, he commented, "I thought I would not see how spring faired in your forest, but this grove is ahead of the rest."

"The reason for this is known to me," the father druid announced. He was relieved that the half-elf knew a business summons when he received one. Immediately he explained, "Nearly a year ago a monk from Ghiga Monastery found his way into my woods. This is not uncommon. The Ghiga Monks have been known to come down from their peak from time to time to meditate in these woods.

The half-elf stood, frowning at the father druid. He had no idea what a Ghiga Monk was, except that the mountains that shadowed this forest were named the Ghiga Mountains. "There are monks that live in the mountains?" he inferred in the form of a question, still keeping his eyes off the albino druid.

The father druid gave a nod. "Would you like me to tell you their story? It would do you some good to hear a tale after such a lonely winter. It is the most I can do before asking a favor from a stranger." It was also the father druid's way of apologizing for not interacting with the half-elf throughout the entire winter. The druid and his family were cautious beings, and he had not been sure of the trustworthiness of the half-elf until the end of their arrangement.

The half-elf weighed the father druid's question. He agreed with the druid that hearing a story—hearing spoken words of any kind—was always pleasant after a period of isolation. The half-elf didn't like the hustle and bustle of civilization, but he did enjoy friendly exchanges of words. Some of his favorite nights when traveling were the nights spent with other travelers, swapping stories by the fire.

"I will hear it," he respectfully smiled, purposely putting his eyes on the druid to show his genuine interest. He liked the wisdom in the father druid. This albino high elf that chose to live far from his people as a druid understood the life of a loner and drifter. Perhaps one day he would find his home and settle down, the half-elf hoped.

The father druid turned his gaze south onto the mountainside, "Legends say that long ago Ghiga was a dragon who was constantly living in the shadow of his bigger brother Ogahai. Ogahai was a warrior among the dragons, being fierce, fast, and mighty; none could stand up against the power of Ogahai's whip-cracking tail and earth-trembling roar. Many smaller creatures worshipped Ogahai like a god, and the other dragons feared Ogahai's influence. Ghiga was forced to live under Ogahai like a servant.

"There came a day when Ghiga grew so tired of his brother that he made a plan. Humans had recently made the lands near Ghiga's caves their home. Ogahai sought to rid these humans, believing all humans were a blight upon the world. But Ghiga saw the humans as an opportunity. To hide his intentions to his brother, Ghiga lured some of the humans up to his cave by disguising himself as one of them. In the secrecy of his cave, he revealed his identity and offered the humans an alliance. Ghiga would give the humans knowledge beyond their kind, and in return they would help him destroy Ogahai, their common enemy.

"This alliance was the start of the Ghiga Monks. Ghiga taught his monks the power of will, training them to discipline their bodies, and use their discipline and determination to control the elements around them. It is also said that a few of the monks learned how to control the minds of others.

"When Ghiga's monks were ready, Ghiga challenged his brother. The battle against Ogahai was fierce, and together the brothers shook the world, forming mountains with their voices where they fought. Just when Ogahai thought he had his brother, who was exhausted and dying from the fight, Ghiga's monks ambushed Ogahai. With the help of their dying Master's last breath, the monks were able to push Ogahai far north to his death. It is said that the Ghiga Monks built their monastery where their dragon master laid his life, far up on the last and highest peak of the Ghiga Mountains.

"That is the story of the Ghiga Monks," the father druid finished.

"A fine tale," the half-elf bowed his head, hiding his overzealous smile. Oh, how he loved stories. "You say that one of these Ghiga Monks came into your woodland a year ago."

"The monk came into the woods a year ago only to disappear along with this grove," the father druid elaborated. "And to reappear this day."

"A disappearing monk. And grove," the half-elf took a step back, reexamining the green scenery.

The father druid chuckled in reaction, tilting his head and making the bark pieces clack against his antlers. He knew the half-elf was trying to make it seem like he wasn't confused as to what the monk and grove had to do with him. "The monk's ability to make himself and a grove disappear does not surprise me," the father druid confessed. "The Ghiga Monks are known for their mysterious abilities. It is this ability, perhaps of illusion, that I seek. With such an ability, I can direct warmongers away from my precious forest. My family and my forest would be safe."

"I see," the half-elf voiced for the father druid. He admired the druid's planning, and his tenacity to try and spare his home from the broadening war. But he still did not understand where he fit into the father druid's plan.

"It is not favorable that I must ask this of you," the father druid began. "But think of it as payment for the animals you took for provisions during your stay in my forest," he offered a reason, one that the half-elf actually agreed on and respected. "Or, I can ask that out of the goodness that I've seen in your heart, please help protect my home." It was not a question; not yet. The father druid did not expect the half-elf to come to a decision until he told him the task. "Under a normal circumstance, I would perform the task I am readying to ask of you," he assured. "There is…" he paused, "a power preventing me from doing so. This power is also affecting my wife and daughters. It is hoped, that whatever is affecting us, is not affecting you."

"I have felt no powers worked upon me," the half-elf fortified. Of course he was going to help the druid protect his home. The half-elf had never turned down a plea for help. It was not in his character to do so.

"We shall see," the father druid responded. "My daughters did not know of the power until they tried approaching the monk. The power prevents us from coming near him at all. We have only been able to observe the monk from a distance. We suspect that the monk knows of our presence and influence in the forest and is purposefully keeping us away.

"I ask you," his tone became softer, "will you try to approach this monk? Ask him to allow me words with him. That is all I ask," he lowered his voice, sounding defeated and embarrassed. "That is all I ask."

There was no hesitation in the half-elf when he answered, "Point me in the direction of this monk."

The father druid let out a short relieved sigh before putting two fingers in his mouth to release a high-pitched whistle. Nothing happened right away, but soon the caw of a bird called out as a hawk swooped into the grove and onto the father druid's antlers. The yellow-eyed brown hawk, but with a speckled white underbelly, stared at the half-elf before cocking its head inquisitively.

"This is my daughter Penarddun. She will lead you as far as she can to the monk." With that, the hawk cawed again and took off in a direction diagonal to the half-elf. The half-elf lightly and quickly bowed to the father druid before running into action to follow Penarddun the hawk. If keeping up with a stag was difficult, following a hawk would be more so. And a hawk leaves no trails to follow.

Fortunately for the half-elf, Penarddun would stop on a bough of a tree and wait for him to catch-up before taking off again. Every time he had to catch-up, Penarddun would be impatiently stamping her clawed feet, leaving scratch marks in the bark, and then caw as the half-elf neared, in case he did not see her. She was not used to the slow sprint of a humanoid. Her family stayed in their wild forms a majority of the time, and each family member had a speedy way of getting about. In Penarddun's opinion, humanoids were some of the slowest of creatures. She much preferred her hawk form that allowed her the freedom of the sky.

Penarddun had been the one of the two of the father druid's six daughters that disagreed with the half-elf's stay in the forest. She believed his arrival meant the arrival of more intruders.  
And she was right. The half-elf's arrival marked how closely the war was approaching her home. During the winter, she had reveled in keeping a close eye on the half-elf, whom she still didn't trust, but it was to her dismay that her father disallowed her to confront him. If Penarddun had had it her way, the half-elf would have been strung up to a tree and left to freeze.

Her father was not the one who taught her prejudice towards outsiders; he had taught her to only be cautious. The prejudice came from her mother.

Penarddun was the second oldest of her sisters, but she was old enough to remember what happened to their brother. Outsiders happened. A group of hostile outsiders came to their woodland and when her brother approached them in his wild shape of a boar, they attacked him. Upon his death he reverted to his elven form; the outsiders did not care what or who they had slain. Yet, it was unsuspecting of them to be unprepared when Penarddun's mother avenged her only son in the wild shape of a large bear. It had been since that day that her mother had been against outsiders; and Penarddun shared her mother's pain for the loss of her only son and revulsion for any outsiders that stepped into their home.

In Penarddun's mind, she would never leave the confines of the woodland, and she would protect her home with her life as her brother had done. Perhaps one day she would take her father's place and become the Mother Druid of the woodland.

The half-elf was naive of Penarddun's dislike of him. He only saw Penarddun as an impatient hawk that was taking him to see a powerful monk who could save the forest from the misgivings of war. This was the only reason Penarddun did not contest her father when he gave her task to guide the half-elf. The task was for the good of the forest, her home.

Penarddun stopped on her last limb. The warding power of the monk would not let her go any farther. The power ruffled her feathers even from this distance. The warding power was like nothing she had encountered before. Her father claimed to have encountered a Ghiga monk once before, before Penarddun's existence, but he said it had not been as powerful as this one. The thought of one wielding power far greater than that of her father's was frightening to Penarddun. She decided she disliked the monk more than the half-elf. At least she could confront the half-elf if she was allowed to; she could not even get near the monk.

The part of the forest where Penarddun had stopped was a small distance away from a waterfall and brook. From the sky, before she was called to her father to aid the half-elf, she had been trying to spy on the monk. With her acute sight in hawk-form, Penarddun was able to see from almost a mile up in the sky that the monk was cleaning himself in the brook. This puzzled Penarddun. She knew that despite the brook being free of ice, flowing freely, it was still drastically too cold for most creatures to plunge into; but this monk was apparently not like most creatures.

The half-elf stepped into view and Penarddun cawed to get his attention. He looked to her and waited for Penarddun to move ahead again, but she did not. She waited for the half-elf to realize that his escort could go no further, and upon his realization Penarddun gestured in the direction of the brook and stamped her feet. It took her several times of doing this for the half-elf to understand, which annoyed Penarddun. Finally he wandered off in the direction of the monk.


	3. Chapter 2: Lady Monk and Just Cadriel

**Chapter 2**

**Lady Monk and Just Cadriel**

Hot or cold. It did not matter; Rayda's monk body was disciplined to withstand harsh temperatures. One of the Ghiga Monks' many tests was to walk across several yards of hot coal. There was another that required a monk to spend a full day of meditation on the tallest mountain peak in front of the shrine of Ghiga himself where the temperature dropped well below freezing. These were not so much tests of endurance, as they were tests of will. It was the teachings of a Ghiga monk to control the mind in order to control your surroundings. It was all very practical and Rayda respected the philosophy more than she thought she would when she first arrived at the monastery.

The water in the brook was extremely cold and not practical for what it looked like Rayda was using it for. It looked like she was trying to wash away the filth on her skin. Which she was, but what a passerby would not notice if they came across Rayda standing in the cold brook near the waterfall was that she was heating the water in the palm of her hands before using it against her skin. The waterfall's spray hid the steam Rayda was producing with each handful of hot water.

As Rayda dallied in the water, taking her time to make herself look clean, she was also singing. It had been so long since she had exercised her voice that she thought singing would do some good. The hoarseness in her voice was atrocious at first, so she used some divine intervention to tweak and clean out the cobwebs in her vocal cords. She was singing like a siren in no time.

Her song of choice was one that she had sung as Milly the tavern maid. It was an old song that she learned from an old bard in the last of his years. He offered to teach Milly the song after she helped him with the rather embarrassing situation of being reunited with one of the local elderwomen that the old bard had met many, many years before. It had been a short romance before, but the old bard now wanted to spend the last of his days with the woman. Milly had no problem at all convincing the elderwoman to meet with the old bard.

The song the old bard taught her was an epic tale of four heroes that ventured across the continent in search of a jewel that would appease their beautiful but vain queen. On their journey they faced many foes and challenges, only to find that the queen that sent them away was also trying to have them killed. Towards the end of the tale, the undefeated heroes returned to the queen with a rare and beautiful necklace. The queen was too materialistic to reject the gift and clasped the necklace around her neck. The enchanted object turned the queen into a bird that the four heroes then caged and presented to the queen's son, who had been locked away in the dungeons. It was an odd tale, but Rayda liked it because at its end, the epic song became a soft lament sung by the caged bird.

The half-elf had not outright approached the monk, because when he had been near enough, he heard the sound of song and stopped in his tracks. He was captivated. The song was beautiful and strong. It could be heard over the charge of the nearby brook and waterfall like it had a mystical power as it moved through the trees and to his ears. Completely forgetting why he had come towards the brook in the first place, the half-elf now searched for the source of the singing. He followed it towards the waterfall like a small child follows the voice of its mother.

He stopped on the edge of the woods that met the brook finding that the song originated from the tall, boney stature of what he realized was a female monk—the monk he was sent after. The monk was in no way unattractive as he also realized she was not wearing any upper garments, revealing that she was in fact female. But her voice did not fit the part of her outward taut, coarse, and malnourished appearance. Despite maybe looking hungry, the female monk was built like a fighter, not a song maiden.

It was unexpected, and the half-elf found himself staring for much too long. Yet when the monk almost gave notice to him as she looked up at the sky in the excitement of her song, he panicked and dove behind the trunk of a tree. He in no way wanted to interrupt and stop the monk's awe-inspiring voice and tale. He wanted her to keep singing.

Not being able to help himself, he peeked around the tree to look at her once again. She had turned around, facing the opposite way, as she crouched lower to the water, wringing her hair. The half-elf noticed that steam was being released from her hair as she ran her hand over it like a clothes press. It was like she was heating and drying her tawny hair with her two hands.

Maybe this monk wasn't a monk at all, but a sorceress. It slowly crossed his mind that she may be casting a spell over him with her song, and if that was the case, he had to end it then and there. He did not hesitate and pulled out his bow and an arrow with the thought that he should chase the sorceress away for the druid father's sake.

The half-elf used his hunting prowess to quietly come out from behind the tree and approach the would-be intruder. When he was at the edge of the brook, only a few yards from the woman, he nocked the arrow and pointed it at her. He wasn't going to automatically attack her until he was sure she was dangerous. Until then, _he_ would play cautious and ready intruder.

He cleared his throat.

The song immediately ceased as the woman was startled and clumsily fell head first towards the water. She tried catching herself but the slippery rocks made her slip, now face first. She thrashed around until she managed to sit up straight, soaked in icy water from head to toe. The half-elf thought it looked quite uncomfortable and he lowered his bow in pitied guilt.

Rayda looked up at the elf with wide-open eyes of disbelief and wonder. Somehow this elf had just snuck up on her, which was nigh impossible for the sheer fact that she was… Well, she was above being startled. The reality of what she was, a non-mortal, should have prevented anyone or anything from coming so close to her without her feeling something. It was not a matter of wits; it was a matter of _feeling_. She could sense creatures, mortals, and spirits a mile away.

So how was it that this elf had managed to do it? Who was he exactly?

Rayda stared at him with an enthusiasm that she had not felt in very, very long time; she loved conundrums. She did not bother getting up from the cold brook, or covering her naked upper body as she stared. She had no shame as she tried deducing what was so different about the elf. He was special, but she could not pinpoint what it was that made him special; not yet.

He looked average enough. He had long brown hair tucked behind his elven ears, the wear and tear of a traveler wearing brown leatherskin pants and jacket, and the bronze skin of someone from somewhere exotic. He was young for an elf, maybe in his thirties. Behind his cool olive green eyes there was the keenness for adventure. Encompassing his eyes was the desire to do good in the world. Suppressed inside his eyes was the bitterness of a broken heart.

_Interesting_, Rayda thought.

After a longer scrutinizing look at him and some outward soul-searching, she figured out the puzzle. The reason she could not sense him like she could almost everything else—the trees, the chipmunk thirty feet leftward, the druids that lived in the forest—was because all those things were claimed. Rayda could sense a deity's power and influence over them. In this case, most of the forest was claimed by a nature deity, and whether the druids living in the forest knew it or not, they worshipped and gave glory to this nature deity.

This elf, however, was not claimed. Rayda sensed no influence of any deity of any kind working upon him or within him. This elf was in fact: godless.

The corners of Rayda's mouth went upward until she was beaming at the brown-haired bronze-skinned elf. She couldn't help herself. If she was in fact right about the elf being godless—and she knew she was—it was time for Rayda to play god. It did not matter that this was not her world and she held no influence as a deity. This elf was exactly what Toral-oba was looking for—what she always looked for.

As Rayda beamed at the elf, he went red in the ears. He was embarrassed that Rayda had not yet attempted to cover herself.

"You must leave this forest… Sorceress?" The half-elf had tried sounding threatening, but it came out as an anxious question.

"Sorceress?" Rayda cocked her head and wondered. "I see no sorceress here."

"What are you, then? An evil spirit trying to enchant the woods?"

Rayda suddenly felt stupid, and cold. She cupped her breasts with her hands and worked her way up out the water. The elf had his bow pointed and ready again, but she ignored this as she trudged out of the water and found her upper garment lying on the bank.

"I suppose I should be flattered," she said loud enough for the elf to hear. "You're the first to see any womanly part of me unclothed. In this body, anyway," she said this part too low for him to hear. "And you haven't runaway screaming. I must not be as unsightly as I thought." She was tying the upper garment around her neck and waist. The upper garment was nothing simpler than that of large square cloth. "I am Rayda, by the way. I am a monk from the monastery in the mountains."

After clothing, she turned to the elf with a simple smile. The elf was embarrassed again. His head was turned away as she finished tying her garment. His shortbow was at his side, no longer pointed at her with an arrow.

"Forgive me," he awkwardly replied. "I mistook you for an enchantress. You have the singing voice of one."

"A monk has not the ability to sing?" Rayda politely scoffed. "I will have to tell that to Brother Pakun. He does enjoy his song. And the sound of his own voice." She put her hand on her hip. "Anyway, the least you can do if you want forgiveness is to tell me your name." There was power in names, if the elf gave her his real name. Not that she was going to use his name against him.

The half-elf put replaced his arrow and put away his shortbow. "Lady Monk, my name is Cadriel." He made a kind bow. Cadriel did not want to insult the monk anymore than he had.

"Cadriel," she repeated with interest. "That's a simple name. Do you not have a last name or family name to go with it?"

"No," he answered more prominently. "Just Cadriel."

"Oh? All right then. Cadriel it is."

Rayda suspected that there was more to it than _"Just Cadriel"_, but she did not press the introduction. If she had her way, there would be plenty time to talk about it later on. She had plans to learn more about this elf, but she wanted to make herself welcome in his company first. At the moment, Cadriel was on one side of the brook, and Rayda was on the other. She was not welcome quite yet, seeing as they had not stepped within a foot of each other.

"You must be cold, Lady Monk," he focused on her. "I can make a fire for you to sit by and dry yourself."

"A fire would be nice," Rayda was not going to protest. She was not as cold as it appeared, but a campfire would be a good place to receive the welcome she was looking for. A campfire was one of the best places to get to know someone.

Cadriel immediately went to work. He picked a decent spot away from the brook that looked dry enough and began gathering the materials he needed to start a campfire. He knew that the father druid may not be happy with his loitering, but the monk he was supposed to be asking for help from was sopping with wintry water, and it was his fault.

As Cadriel worked, Rayda started wringing out her bottom garment, a pair of rough looking trousers. She did this without removing them, to avoid embarrassing Cadriel again. Rayda was not the shy type, but Cadriel seemed to be. He kept throwing Rayda glances as he set the fire, but would quickly look away when Rayda would look at him.

Once the fire was set, and at a good strength. Rayda instinctively came closer to it. She _was_ cold, despite that the cold would never inwardly bother her. It could certainly affect her mortal body if she allowed it too, but she didn't feel much like losing this body to hypothermia. She had to take care of this body like any mortal thing; otherwise her divinity would show—her eyes or body might start glowing, or some other unnatural phenomenon that could scare or awe the locals.

The elf Cadriel silently tended the fire, poking and prodding it as Rayda sat and watched the flame grow or shrink. She could not decide if the silence that was between her and the elf was a bad sign or a good sign, but when she began to watch Cadriel instead of the flame, he appeared comfortable. His eyes were alive with the fire, but he was calm and thoughtful. This was a good sign.

Cadriel knew that the monk was looking at him, but he did not dare meet her gaze. There was something about her that was relaxing. He could not explain it to himself, but Rayda's presence felt almost motherly. It was a feeling he did not know much about, because he did not have a mother, but he had always imagined that if he'd had one she would have a soothing presence. It was why he could not look at her. Rayda's presence was soothing, but every time he looked at her there was something wrong. Her appearance did not fit; he did not understand why this was.

"Thank you for the fire, Cadriel," Rayda said evenly, putting her gaze back on the flames. She realized she was the one who was uncomfortable with the silence.

"It was I that caused you to fall into the brook," Cadriel stated. "I should not have snuck up on you like that."

"There are few who can," she bluntly responded. "I'm trained to be aware of my surroundings you know. If Master Yannon had seen me so startled, I would be sweeping the dustballs out of the lower level of the monastery right now.

"Did you grow up in the monastery?" Cadriel revealed his brimming curiosity. He wanted to know more about this monk. He wanted to know what it was about her that made him feel so _comfortable_.

"I did not," Rayda had practiced her childhood story many times with the other monks at the monastery. Yet she was wary to tell Cadriel the same story. She did not want to lie to him, but it was too early to entertain the idea of telling him the truth. She wanted his trust, and she couldn't do that by intimidation. In Rayda's experience that's what telling mortals you're a god does; it intimidates them. She liked to be on the same level as mortals before she revealed that she was a deity; this time from another world.

Aye, it was better to tell Cadriel, "I hail from the grand Ghazic city of Sema'rr, south of here."

Cadriel thought it made sense. Her sunskin meant she had to be from somewhere south of Dur'mon Kingdom, just as he was. All though, he did not consider the Ghazic Kingdom his home, by any means. "You are of Ghazic descent then," he said, like it had been firmly established.

"My mother certainly was," Rayda assured him. "My father hailed from this kingdom. The city of Bur'othen. Sadly, the tale of their meeting is not too romantic. My father fled Bur'othen during the time of Great Sickness, you see. He was fortunate and escaped the city without contracting the illness. He fled with many other refugees to the borders of the Ghazic Kingdom, but as you may already know, the Ghazic Magistrate would not allow any to cross the border. My mother was a Cleric that despite the Magistrate's orders went to help and heal the refugees. It's one of those: falling in love with your healer stories." Rayda stopped and chuckled, but Cadriel didn't see the humor.

"Are there a lot of romance stories that involve the sick falling in love with a healer?" Cadriel asked because he genuinely had no idea.

Ah, so he was naïve to the topic of romance, Rayda noted. That meant that the broken heart she sensed within him was caused by some other means other than romance.

"It is similar to the stories of the damsel in distress falling in love with her hero," Rayda was going to play along. "Surely, you've heard one alike? Or perhaps you, yourself have experienced this firsthand. You seem well travelled—on your travels have you not rescued some damsels that afterwards threw themselves upon you? Unless, I am completely assuming too much and damsels are not your type. Perhaps you prefer more strapping individuals who can hold their own."

Cadriel was embarrassed again, but he cleared his throat and replied, "Are all monks this forward?"

"Of course not," Rayda laughed. "Master Yannon sought to make me a silent monk, because I could annoy him so with what you call _my forwardness_. Master Yannon called it _a nuisance_. He did not understand how I could show so much control in training, but outside of it I was as bad as a drunken dwarven bride whose groom had left her at the anvil."

He laughed, also realizing that Rayda had been trying to get him to smile when she showed a shrewd smile. "You did not finish your story, Lady Monk," he said kindly but accusingly. "How did one such as yourself end up in the Ghiga Mountains, far from Ghazic?"

Rayda became quieter and answered, "Eleven years ago I found myself in need of something and I left Ghazic. I listened to the rumors—mostly tavern tales—of a monastery up in the Ghiga mountains where the monks could bend the rules of nature. I went searching for the monastery. And now, here I am as a fully trained Ghiga Monk."

"You must have been but ten years old," Cadriel could hardly believe it, "when you left Ghazic. Did you make the journey alone? What of your parents?"

"Fourteen, in truth," Rayda grinned. Her monk body had the appearance of a twenty-five year old human. Cadriel had trimmed a few years off on his guess. "And aye. My parents were executed by the Magistrate when I was nine. I made the journey alone."

"Incredible," Cadriel was impressed. He began to look at Rayda anew. "You must have been through a considerable number of hardships."

"Well," Rayda scratched the back of her head. She was regretting lying to him. "You know what they say. The light doesn't shine through the O'pa crystal."

"I have never heard of the saying," Cadriel stated. "Is that another dwarven reference?"

"It's… It's a saying where I come from." Which it was actually a saying from Toral-oba's world; not Rouentha. The O'pa crystal was a blue crystal that did not allow light to shine through it, but you could not tell the difference between an O'pa crystal and any other blue crystal unless you did shine a light through it. The saying was a simile between the crystal and liars—you cannot see a liar for what one is unless you shine light on it first. "Forget I said I mentioned it," she covered. "How about you, Cadriel. How did an elf such as yourself find himself at the foot of the Ghiga Mountains? There are few elves in the Wur'muth Kingdom."

Cadriel was quiet for a long minute as he prodded the fire again. "I am only half-elf," he said finally. He had to get that out of the way if it was going to cause trouble. Half-elves were never regarded highly in most places across Rouentha. Most half-elves were like himself, wanderers with no permanent place to call home. Or like the druid father of the forest, an outcast from elven society.

Humans were wary of half-elves because of their elf-blood, and elves commonly despised half-elves because of their human-blood. Tensions between elves and humans were always high in Rouentha, everywhere.

Rayda had not said anything, and Cadriel assumed it was because there was going to be a problem. He stopped staring at the fire to see the look of revulsion he would usually see on someone's face when they found out that he was a half-elf. Her face was quite the opposite. She was looking up at him, elbow supported on her knee and chin supported on her closed hand, with an almost dreamy smile. He had never had seen this kind of reaction before.

"Why do you look at me with such an expression?" he was forced to ask as he felt blood move to ears and cheeks again.

The world Toral-oba came from did not even have elves, but she was never going to tell Cadriel this unless it became pertinent. Being a half-elf made Cadriel all the more unique in Rayda's eyes. "Would you believe me if I said you are the first half-elf I have ever encountered?" she at least confessed.

"Not surprising," he answered. "Elves are not in the habit of coupling with humans. And a child born of such a coupling is more so uncommon."

"The story of your parents must be extraordinarily romantic, then." Rayda sighed, but she did not wait for Cadriel to answer. She then stood, proclaiming, "I am dry enough, thank you again, half-elf Cadriel. Our meeting has been most _interesting_." She made a monk bow that she learned at the monastery. However, it was all for show because she had no intention of leaving Cadriel behind. In fact, the look on Cadriel's face showed that he wasn't going to let Rayda just leave.

As Rayda turned and began walking away, Cadriel called, "Wait! I cannot see you leave, Lady Monk. I must speak with you. It is of importance."

Rayda smiled before she turned to Cadriel with a look of cluelessness. "Was there something you needed from me?"

"I was sent to speak to you, Lady Monk," he finally acknowledged. "By the druids living in this forest. They need your help."


	4. Chapter 3: Sanctuary vs Adventure

**Chapter 3**

**Sanctuary vs. Adventure**

"My help?" Rayda was somewhat surprised.

After all, it's not like deities can never be surprised. Despite what most mortals babble on about when it comes to what their gods can or cannot do, deities are _not_ all-knowing. What they know is limited to what they have influence over. Rayda had little to no influence in Rouentha, meaning she knew little of what the goings-on were other than that of which happened in her vicinity.

"The druids have my attention. To what purpose do they need it?"

"You have a p-power," Cadriel stammered. He could not explain it, but he was suddenly anxious. He had a pang in his stomach and he was certain it was not a hunger pang. Was it the monk that was making him feel this way? He was fine whilst they sat around the fire. Now he had cold feet despite being near the fire.

"You have a particular power that the druid who claims these woods is interested in," Cadriel established in one hot breath that escaped his mouth as a swirl on the chill air. "It is his hope that you are gracious enough to share this power. It is a power he wishes to use to protect the woods."

"I have many powers," Rayda amusedly answered, thinking all the many ways she could protect the woods as Toral-oba. She of course would not go as far as using any of her divine powers. It would be seen as her declaring war on the nature deity who claimed the woods. "To which do you speak of?" she asked with eagerness. What power had the druids noticed of her?

Cadriel cringed. He didn't much like having Rayda confess that she had many powers, because the way she said it was not how he imagined a monk would say it. Not that he had much experience with monks. Merely, he did not expect Rayda to claim having _many powers_ in an almost gloating way. Was that why he was so anxious? He was afraid to learn that this monk was powerful and dangerous? Why did that matter to him?

"The one used to conceal the meadow a thousand paces that way," he curtly answered, nodding his head in the direction he came. What if it was not she that was involved with the meadow?

"Ah," Rayda responded without acknowledging the direction Cadriel indicated. She thinned her lips. She had been careless, she already knew. The winterless meadow was something she could not go back and change. The power used there was Toral-oba's, not Rayda's. "It is not a power I can share," she put a warning behind the words.

Cadriel quickly averted his gaze from hers and let out a held-in breath. She did have the power, but she would not share it, and he did not feel it was his place to ask why not. Moreover, his anxiousness did not go away with the lady monk's answer and all he could do now to rid himself of it was take his leave to tell the druid father that what he wanted from the monk was not possible.

"I will inform the druid," he remained brief. He began putting out the fire next to him, ignoring Rayda's lingering presence.

In the past five minutes he had gone from being comfortable by the fire with her, to tense and nervous. Rayda had noticed how he didn't want to look at her. Was her chance to companion him slipping? It would be entirely her fault, really. She was obviously allowing too much of her deity-side show through. It could be seen as haughty to an innocent such as Cadriel.

"That does not mean I cannot help," she said smartly. Cadriel looked up from his task and waited for her to explain. "I will not refuse helping when there is help to be needed," she purposely sounded whimsical. "Why could the druid not ask me himself?" she suddenly asked crossing her arms. She knew the answer, but what she wanted was Cadriel's attention. She needed to keep him interested in her.

"Is that not your doing?" Cadriel indeed kept interest.

"Not within my power," she smiled at him. Admitting this might ease his uncertainty about her. He obviously he was guarded of her _many powers._ It would be best not to reveal too much of them at once—Rayda's and especially Toral-oba's. In time, maybe. In time, maybe even Toral-oba could reveal herself to him.

"That would be a useful one, now wouldn't it?" Rayda said, wanting to lessen the tension with a little humor. "A power that is much like bug repellent, but it would instead be used against druids." She chuckled not expecting Cadriel to join in, and he did not.

Rouentha didn't have bug repellent. The world she came from didn't have druids, which she found to be as pesky as bugs sometimes because of their tendency to complain about harm to nature. The joke would have only made sense to her. She understood it would make Cadriel wonder—for her sanity, or for the reference of such a joke.

Cadriel did not know what to make of Rayda. She seemed a little over-confident and she was one-sided on humor. Could she truly even help the druid father? Maybe she did not have the many powers she claimed; perhaps the claim had only been a joke that she thought he would catch on to, but he had not.

"Putting aside the usual dangers to one's home, why does the druid worry for the safety of his woods?" The monk had become solemn within the second and Cadriel took a second to regard the solemnity of her question.

"You have been away from the usual rabble of society for some time, Lady Monk," he stated. "Perhaps you are unaware of the war that continues to extend this way from the east. The druid fears that the warring parties will see his woods as a resource to feed their hostile agendas as they make their way to claim the port city of Dur'Dashka. These woods are far more pleasant and accessible than its brother on the other side of the mountains, the Sunderfuge Jungle," he enlightened. He knew Rayda would know what jungle he spoke of seeing as she was from the top of the mountains, but he wanted to show the extent of his regional knowledge. He wanted to show that he knew what he spoke of, and prove the father druid's point of interest.

He watched as Rayda turned his claim over in her head. Her dark grey eyes went from focused to thoughtful. He could not imagine what the lady monk was thinking, but now he was intent on watching her think it. She moved her gaze to the brook and began rubbing her chin with a thumb, but she smiled as she did so. There was something about the looseness of her manner that made him wonder if she had heard him at all.

"I have a plan," she finally announced. "You must give me a few minutes to set my plan into motion."

Rayda turned from the area and took several steps into the woods. Before she went entirely out of Cadriel's sight, she turned and called, "Please do not follow," to the dumb-founded half-elf who stared at her wide-eyed. She did not sound too serious, but she meant it. "I will be back before you can recite the strictures of Ghiga." She walked farther into the woods, leaving Cadriel behind.

When she found a place to stand firm, she quietly—a murmur, really—said, "Goddess of this wood, I am Toral-oba." Rayda allowed her divine energy to surge through her mortal body as she spoke. Her eyes were aglow, no doubt. "Reveal yourself," she whispered, "as I have to you."

The air around Rayda became still. She felt the energy of another power compress into a single spot on the trunk of a tree before her. There, before her eyes, a large moth camouflaged to the tree, took form. She knew it was there before it fluttered its wings, but as it folded its wings back, Rayda smiled. The moth was beautiful. The inside of its wings were as white and glistening as the snow on day's light.

As the moth took flight it carried more grace in its motion than a flower in the wind. It trailed flecks of light off its body as it came towards Rayda. Rayda held out an arm where the moth gently landed. It twiddled its antennae before she heard the soft voice, as soft as the flutter of its wings, speak in her head alone, "_I am Florapis, Lesser Goddess of shapeshifters, outcasts, and sanctuary. You bring your power to my woods, Toral-oba. The druids within my influence are drawn to your power. I ask for you to leave before they are drawn farther._"

The antennae tickled Rayda's arm and she chuckled. "It is not my intention to steal your druids away," she said light-heartedly. "On the contrary, I wish to leave peacefully, without my influence infringing upon yours." To show her own good intentions towards Florapis, she stroked the silk-soft wing of the large moth continually twiddling its antennae. The moth reacted by batting its wings several times. "Tell me, Florapis, how do you intend to protect your woods against the coming armies?"

"_I protect the woods. My woods will protect the druids,_" Florapis answered.

Rayda recognized Florapis's answer as the typical self-centered answer of a deity. It is how most deities answered when they, themselves do not have the answer. They will make it sound like they have the power to do anything even if they do not.

"You need not give me the answer you would a mortal, Florapis," Rayda had not stopped whispering her words. She sensed Cadriel nearer to where she was. "We both know that you will be overwhelmed when those armies decide to make use of your woods." She gave time for these words to sink in before she said, "I offer a suggestion. One that will get my meddling out of your woods, protect your woods, and allow you to extend your own influence."

The moth blinked its enormous black eyes at Rayda. "_Speak it_," Florapis replied.

"Allow me to take the half-elf Cadriel to Ghiga's Monastery where I will speak with the monk masters. I will ask that they take heed of the coming armies. If trouble arises, they shall stand by the druids to protect your woods. No army will match the strength and powers of the Ghiga Monks. Your woods will be safe and will have gained an ally. As for yourself, the Ghiga Monks will respect you. Some may take a liking to you. Your influence will grow."

"_An appealing offer_," Florapis considered. "_You will leave and not return when the task is done?_"

"You have the binding promise of another deity," Rayda spoke in a heavy whisper.

"_You have taken an interest in the half-elf, Toral-oba."_ Florapis so suddenly changed the subject that Rayda laughed.

"Yes, I have."

"_I must advise you to cease further interest in him._" The moth twitched and readjusted itself on Rayda's arm. She imagined that if Florapis had chosen another form, a delicate little humanoid would be standing on her arm instead, glaring at her with its arms crossed. "_I have allowed the half-elf to tarry in my woods for a purpose_," Florapis went on. "_The half-elf is in my interest as well._"

"Ah," Rayda had figured as much. "You wish to gain him into your sphere of influence."

"_He is an outcast from the rest of the world. I can offer him sanctuary. A home. It can fill the emptiness he carries with him_," Florapis said, filled with the usual pride of a deity. "_I will show him love and he will be at peace. What can _you_ offer him?_"

Rayda rolled her eyes.

This is the problem with many deities. They see mortals as nothing more than pieces to gather. Sure they can show love to mortals. Reward them, fulfill their desires, bring them peace or chaos—whichever they prefer. But in the end, they care for mortals as most mortals would care for a prized pet. There are few deities that treat those in their influence like their own children; some _are_ their own children. But never does the typical deity treat their followers as equals. Well… hardly ever.

"I offer Cadriel friendship," Rayda said proudly.

The moth made a buzzing noise that Rayda understood to be Florapis laughing. "_What an interesting game you play at. Friendship to gain their trust, and then what? You send them to fight your battles or spread your influence? Toral-oba, you are a fool._"

"What I am, is not you," Rayda remained calm, despite the insult. "What I plan is not yours to know." In truth, there are almost no deities that can agree or get along. They all represent something different. They all have their own form of selfishness.

"_Just the same, I will not let you acquire the half-elf into your influence_," Florapis declared. "_I have seen the temptation in him for the sanctuary of my woods. My offer is to be laid before him before he leaves. And if he does not choose to stay at the present, he will keep the offer in mind on his travels. He will know he has a sanctuary in my woods. He is welcome here. My influence will grow in his heart._"

"Your intentions are well, Florapis. I will not deny Cadriel your offer." She stroked the wings on the moth again. The moth bowed its head by tilting its body. "As I said, I offer him only friendship. And if he accepts _your_ offer when it is given to him, I will leave him be and make my leave. After I return from the monastery," Rayda added. She still wanted to help protect the woods because it was within her power to do so—power as Rayda, not Toral-oba.

"_I will be in your debt_," Florapis did not say with the tone of someone who was pleased.

"Be at ease," Rayda hushed the moth. "I require nothing in return. My help is given freely."

The moth climbed up Rayda's arm and tickled the side of her face with its antennae. "_You are a strange immortal_," Florapis said as her last words before the moth took flight and flew high into the trees, disappearing from sight and probably the physical world.

Rayda turned from the area and headed toward the brook, meeting Cadriel no more than twenty paces from where she spoke with Florapis. He said nothing as she walked past him and she said nothing to him. When they were out in the open again away from the trees, he said, "You were speaking to that creature. I would believe it to be a moth, but it was much too large to consider it that."

"Moths come in many shapes and sizes," Rayda said quietly. She turned on Cadriel and with a louder voice said, "Did I not ask you _not_ to follow me?" But she was smiling as she spoke. She had meant it when she asked him not to follow, but she did only ask him, not tell him.

"I would have been more discreet in following you, but the way you said '_Please do not follow me'_ had me thinking that you would not mind if I followed you." Cadriel stared at Rayda trying to decide if she could be trusted. Rayda was either incredibly wise, or extremely mad. He wanted to decide the former, but then he might be the one who was mad. "Why were you speaking to the moth?" he could not stop himself from asking.

"I'm not going to answer that question," Rayda replied. "I'm going to let you figure that one out on your own. If you were interested in more than watching me speak to it, then you should have come closer. The conversation was rather interesting."

Cadriel _was_ feeling a little mad himself. The only reason he had not come closer when he saw Rayda speaking to the moth was because a new feeling had taken a hold of him. He couldn't explain it, but he had found that the feeling of anxiousness had become exhilaration. It was the same feeling he always had at the campfire while he listened to a tale of a grand adventure of someone else's. And it was the feeling he anticipated would come right before a grand adventure of his own.

Talking to large moths, that was adventurous in his mind. Like when the heroes of one tale that Cadriel could recall had come across a giant sea turtle who revealed itself to be ancient and intelligent before it passed along information needed to succeed in their quest and continue their adventure.

That's what Rayda was, he realized. Rayda was an adventure—everything about her _sung_ adventure. The comfort of having her at the campfire. The excitement of not knowing what would come next when she was near—maybe she was dangerous too, but adventures were full of danger. He couldn't explain most of it, but he somehow knew that if he followed Rayda _all_ the time, he would find himself with a lifetime of adventure. It felt… exhilarating. Like it would fill a hole in himself that he barely knew he had.

"You are very forward," he said forcefully. He was almost shaking because of how excited he was. "So I am just going to come out and ask this… Can I trust you?"

Rayda beamed while she could think nothing else other than: _poor Florapis_. The tug had been too much.

While Florapis offered Cadriel a sanctuary, Rayda naturally offered the other half of what Cadriel wanted. Rayda witnessed it as he stared into his own campfire. His eyes had been alive, because Cadriel desired more than just a sanctuary where he could settle and be safe for the rest of his life. He wanted to live and feel alive. He wanted excitement and… It was true that she was only going to offer him companionship as Rayda, but companionship went along with one other thing.

Adventure. Toral-oba was the Goddess of adventure, companionship, and potential. She was also known as the Mother of Heroes, but the former was what was listed under her name on the scrolls back at the Pantheon.

"Trust me to do what?" she innocently smiled at Cadriel.

"I…" he stopped. "I don't know," he answered, looking beyond confused. He looked down at his hands like he had committed a wrongdoing or act of treason. Was he not sure that he wanted an adventure? It was something he craved when he was alone by the campfire: an adventure of his own. He had done a great deal of travel in his life, but never an adventure. For once, to be able to tell his own exciting tale by fire, to be able to share it with a companion—it was what he wanted.

So maybe it was that he did not think the lady monk would make a good companion?

Before he knew it, the lady monk was standing directly next to him. It was the first time he grasped at how tall she was—well over his head. For a half-elf he was about average, but he supposed Rayda was about the right build for someone of Ghazic descent. They were a tall race of humans.

As Rayda put her hand on his shoulder in a consoling manner, her dark gray eyes were alive like storm clouds. "Reserve judgment for another time," she said compassionately. "We have work to do."

With that, she walked away.

Cadriel was left stunned. Was he going to follow her? He didn't have to, he knew; but if he was going to be honest with himself, he wanted to follow the lady monk. He wanted to follow Rayda into whatever adventure she was making way for.

Why? He had no idea, but he checked to make sure the campfire he had made was wholly extinguished before he followed Rayda in the direction he had first come. "Onward," he whispered to himself. "Let the adventure begin."

He thought he had had trouble following the druid father and his daughter, the hawk, but as Rayda weaved her way through the woods like a leaf on the wind, Cadriel found it difficult to keep up with her. While the monk was able to walk with speed over the wintry underwood, stepping onto sticks and rocks without a sound, Cadriel could only do that with slow and careful steps. In order to keep up with Rayda, he found himself stepping on and breaking more than one sapling. He imagined the father druid admonishing him for each and every one.

"Where are we going?" he resorted to asking Rayda in hopes that it would slow her down.

Rayda had decided that she would only slow down if Cadriel tripped as he tried keeping up with her, but so far he was not doing a poor job. He had skill after all; just not the skill of a Ghiga Monk. Cadriel would understand what that meant if he was going to the monastery with her.

They were going to Ghiga Monastery just as Rayda had told Florapis. She was taking Cadriel with her whether Florapis wanted her to or not. She would not deny Cadriel of Florapis's offer, but the offer had not come yet. Until then, Rayda had a plan.

Cadriel had potential; Toral-oba knew how potential worked. Cadriel would only see the potential within himself if he witnessed and experienced power firsthand, in a controlled environment. Ghiga Monastery was a good place to start. The monk masters were all about opening oneself up to their full potential of the mind—that was the part of their philosophy Toral-oba agreed upon. The other half of the Ghiga Monks' philosophy was that after one had seen what their full potential was, they retrained it—took control of it, disciplined it, and stored it away.

And for what? To waste it away in a place on a tall mountain that was secluded from the rest of the world. Ghiga Monks were not adventurous. They did not have any ambition except that of control of the mind and surroundings, and knowledge of what they _could_ accomplish with this control, if they ever wanted to accomplish anything at all. But the monk masters taught their students to lack ambition. That was the part of their philosophy that Rayda whole-heartedly disagreed upon, and also why she would never truly fit in as a Ghiga Monk.

"Ghiga Monastery," Rayda indulged Cadriel, but still did not slow her pace.

"We're going up the mountain?!" he said with panic. He almost tripped on a grimy log that no more than a second ago Rayda had bolted off of. "That's at least a three day climb."

"You think so?" She didn't sound worried, because she was not worried. Well, she was worried that the monk masters would not let Cadriel into the monastery and he would freeze to death, but it was a small worry. If she had to, she would sneak him in the cave entrance that was used to get to Ghiga's Peak and back. It was farther up the mountain, but that wouldn't be a problem.

"Neither of us is dressed for a journey up the mountain." He was becoming more dismayed with the idea by the step. Spending a wintry night in a cave was one thing; spending a night on the mountain cliffs was another. The wind would be too strong to keep a fire burning. What would they eat? They did not have supplies for a trip of this sort.

Was he getting cold feet again? Was he so scared and doubtful of something that he was sure he had wanted all his life? Adventures meant facing his fears, did it not? He knew that.

Rayda noted that Cadriel didn't like being pushed outside his comfort zone. She wondered if he had a problem with heights. "Are you afraid of heights?" she stopped, turned, and asked him.

He almost ran into her sticklike but firm body, not expecting her to stop so suddenly. "I cannot say," he frowned. "I have not—Well, you see… I have never climbed up a mountain before!" He went hot in the ears.

"Truly?" she asked with fascination, her eyes focusing in on him. Cadriel must be a man who likes to keep his feet on the ground as often as possible, she concluded. "Someone who seems as well traveled as you do has never climbed to a mountaintop?"

At a distance, Rayda only reminded Cadriel of a monk—a tall but bony monk. Up close and despite how thin she was, Rayda was a giantess of a woman. It was somewhat embarrassing for him because, the way he had to look up to see if she approved or disapproved of something he said, he wondered again, if that was what it was like to have a mother—constantly looking upward for approval.

As Rayda towered over him, Cadriel fidgeted under her gaze, readjusting the strap to his quiver like it was constricting his breathing. It wasn't, but there was something about her stormy eyes. He was afraid that lightning might shoot out from them under the right circumstance—that was the kind of eyes she had. He was starting to think he should never do or say something that she might disapprove of.

"You're staring at me," Rayda stated plainly. She couldn't quite place the look he was giving her. From her point of view he was either threatened or grieving over something, he was fidgeting so much. She took a step back. "It's my height, isn't it?"

Cadriel went hot in the ears again, but did his best to not look away. "We-we must continue forward," he started to stammer again. "If we start up the mountain now. We can make a good distance before nightfall. Hopefully… you know of some crevices on the mountainside we can take refuge in for the night."

"How ye have little faith in the monk before you," Rayda said before she turned with a step and about knocked someone over that was almost directly behind her.

_Dammit!_ she inwardly cursed. It was the second time someone had snuck up on her in the last hour. This time it was because she had been completely ignoring her surroundings whilst she had her attention on Cadriel, trying to read him.

Toral-oba was never good at multitasking. That was what Andrenelli was for.

The little someone Rayda almost toppled over made a high-pitched screech as the individual smacked into Rayda's rock-abs. The screech sounded almost like a bird trying to imitate the scream of a humanoid girl. The first thing noticeable about the individual was that she was an elf-girl who was a head shorter than Cadriel—the top of her head reaching Rayda's chest.

Rayda eased her backwards by placing her hands on the girl's shoulders, which seemed to enrage the girl. The elf-girl seemed to think she had some kind of talons or razor beak that could dig into Rayda; she kept snapping her mouth and tightening her fingers into claws. Upon closer inspection, it was more astonishing how much the elf-girl looked like a bird—she had the eyes of a bird of prey.

"Calm yourself!" Rayda pleaded as the elf-girl nipped her arm. Yet, Rayda did not falter. She held the elf-girl to a distance believing that if she let go, the determined elf would go for her throat with a spirited leap. "I have no intention to hurt you!"

"Let me go, you fiend! You vile creature! Get your disgusting hands off me!" The elf-girl continued to struggle against Rayda's hold spitting insults. She was aghast that this stranger had put hands on her. Of all the things she hated, strangers were at the top. Why she dared get close was because she needed to know where they were going. Her father wondered, and the hold that kept her away from the monk seemed to have loosened, allowing her nearness.

Cadriel went around Rayda and watched the exhausting display of the elf-girl putting up a fight as he figured who the elf-girl was. She was a young elf, perhaps in her late teens or early twenties. The elf-girl's skin was white with almost no pigment except a slight pink in her lips, cheeks, and ears. Her eyes were yellow and her hair was a light red, almost copper color. She wore a simple brown breast band on her upper torso and a long brown and tattered breechcloth from her waist. Woven into her hair were multiple brown and black-striped feathers of hawk origin; Cadriel was sure that's what they were.

He realized the similarities of the elf-girl to the father druid. The hawk feathers were a giveaway, too. Though he was quite certain, he asked anyway, "Are you Penarddun?"


End file.
